


The Advantages of Eavesdropping – The Study of a Man in a Suit

by Shortsandramblings



Series: Ramdom Shorts (...and Ramblings) [10]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eavesdropping, F/M, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 16:24:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10857702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shortsandramblings/pseuds/Shortsandramblings
Summary: Basically, whilst watching the final episode ofLine of Duty(filled with police officer in uniform or in suits) andMargin Call(a film that’s basically a suit-orgy), I saw this photo on tumblr, which had me unable to not do this one-shot.Apologies though: was done in the three-four hours of TV watching, to be quickly looked over today before I published, so might be a few typos/mistakes…





	The Advantages of Eavesdropping – The Study of a Man in a Suit

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, whilst watching the final episode of _Line of Duty_ (filled with police officer in uniform or in suits) and _Margin Call_ (a film that’s basically a suit-orgy), I saw this photo on tumblr, which had me unable to not do this one-shot.
> 
> Apologies though: was done in the three-four hours of TV watching, to be quickly looked over today before I published, so might be a few typos/mistakes…

**=**

**The Photo - Stephen Dillane in _Storm_  
** Photographed by G. von Foris

 

 [](http://s284.photobucket.com/user/shortsandramblings/media/tumblr_n5i3w4uZUx1qbszkbo1_540_zps4kgu6xag.jpg.html)

 

=

 

 

 

It was one of those surprising afternoons. Those few times where, with no distractions impeding on the work he had been doing for the past week, the flaws and mistakes were resolved, and it had all come together, meaning they finished early.

Grateful for Davos’ ever-appreciated assistance on the difficult dossier, Stannis encouraged his friend to go home to spend some well deserved time with his wife and sons.

Of course, as soon as Davos gave him his customary nod farewell and the elevator door closed behind the older man, Stannis realised his own evening was free of any possible plans.

 

Shireen was with her mother. As much as he would like to see his daughter, Stannis knew it would not be right to intrude on their time together. Besides, keeping as much distance between Selyse and himself, at all times, was preferable.

Robert was already at the Club (had been since his _‘early-business-lunch_ ’). Somewhere Stannis had no interest going to.

And, from the latest photo his brother had sent uploaded on the social group-sharing application (all of which seemed to have ridiculous sounding names, made up of non-existing words) he had pressed Stannis into getting on his phone, (filling his phone’s internal memory space with useless pictures of flowers in full bloom, ‘ _delightful_ ’ ties, scarves and cloth, bright and colourful cocktail glasses, or - even worse - photos of his brother’s and Tyrell’s feet with a sunset in the background), Renly was with his fiancé, organising inconsequential details for their wedding. Something Stannis knew to stay clear of. (Just the words ‘ _flower bouquet arrangements’_ made his stomach turn.)

Stannis gave a disgruntled huff. Marriage was about the partnership - the _union_ \- with its accompanying vows of commitment to one another, of two people were about to make, who actually wanted to share the rest of their lives together. It was _not_ about the huge flamboyant ceremony and party, or the 21 dishes planned to be served, or the quintet hired from the philharmonic orchestra, or the rows and rows of roses, or the oldest Tyrell brother’s litter of puppies being the ring-bearers (or his two thoroughbreds that were supposed to ‘take’ the two grooms ‘away’ after the vows), or - _most definitely not_ \- about how to best Cersei and Robert’s wedding. At least, though, for Renly’s wedding, Stannis could hope there wouldn't be a poor, caged lion as part of the entertainment.

 

Stannis opted on a long walk through the city. Ending up strolling down the boardwalk, he continued his wander until he became hungry. Wanting to continue enjoying the rather pleasant evening (and having no interest in returning to his empty apartment and spend time cooking and cleaning for the next hour), Stannis was easily and promptly persuaded to treat himself to a meal out.

Studying the different establishments in the near vicinity, he went for a small quiet bistro.

Its menu was acceptable enough. For one, unlike two of the other possibilities, it did not include the term _‘deconstructed_ ’ in any of its sections. - Stannis had never understood the appeal of such a term. He had no interest in a _deconstructed_ anything. Who in their right mind had, at some point, tasted a dish and thought, ‘ _why this dish is just too constructed_ ’? In any case, for most instances the word was used, Stannis found that it mostly meant a lack of skill on the cook’s part (or that the cook had not been bothered to create the _actual_ dish promised).

Besides, in addition to the bistro’s satisfactory menu, its staff didn’t seem the sort to want to overly-share and want to have a conversation with their customers.

He was even more appreciative when the young man offered him to one of the booths near the back of the restaurant, providing Stannis with a higher level of seclusion, privacy and comfort. (Even if he recognised that it _was_ relatively wasteful and inconsiderate to have a whole booth to himself.)

 

He was halfway through his steak, which was slightly too well done (he _had_ said ‘ _medium_ ’ – _not_ ‘ _medium well done_ ’), fries and green salad, when Stannis couldn't help but overhear the conversation on the next booth over; - the one sharing a back with his own. Or rather, the voices of ladies at the other table had increased in volume - in proportion to the protest one of them was exclaiming to the other - clearly thinking that a booth cancelled all sounds from escaping their immediate vicinity.

 

“No - No - _No,_ Marg. I don't think you are fully recognising the allure of a man in a suit… the _complexity - intricacies -_ of a man in a suit.”

With the sound of an amused huff, the other lady - ‘ _Marg_ ’ - replied (just as loudly), “Fine. Please, _please_ \- oh-masterful-one - enlighten me on the _intricacies_ of a man in a suit.”

“I’m going to ignore your snarkiness only because it is clear that you _are_ clearly lacking in some knowledge after all, and I cannot - in good conscience - send you back to your grandmother with such ignorance. She would more than likely - _and rightly so_ \- accuse me of negligence, in taking care of her favorite granddaughter.”

The only reply was a rather unladylike snort.

“So, first off: _yes_ , I do not deny the appeal - you more than thoroughly covered - of a man in a uniform. _But_ , therein lies my argument. _You_ compared men in uniforms - with great emphasis on policemen and firemen - to the knights of today. That's all good and true. A man in a uniform informs you straight off the bat that he could most probably _physically_ save you; save you from physical harm. Hence, we have the _physical_ aspects of a knight. And yes, in his physicality, like that of the checkered shirt lumberjack--”

“- _Northerner_.”

The second young lady mostly ignored her companion’s not-to-subtle ‘ _cough_ ’, and continued as if there had been no interruption.

“ _Like the lumberjack, in his physicality_ , the man in a uniform makes you hope for the _‘rough and tumble physical prowess_ ’ promise that should go hand in with the man’s bulging muscles and general physical strength. _But_ , a man in a suit - especially a _nice_ suit, tie, with a watch, matching socks, and properly shined shoes - that is the _other_ category of the knights of today, with their own ‘suit of armour’. A modem life survivor of the gruelling day to day.”

One of Stannis’ eyebrows rose, as he couldn’t help but become intrigued at being described a _‘knight of today_ ’. ( _Well_ not _him_ specifically, but he _was_ wearing a _suit_.)

“A crisp, pristine, well-tailored suit is your first indication - a first promise, if you will - to a man who is able to take care of himself. The man earns a steady enough job to afford that suit, that tie, that watch, and those polished leather shoes. Not to mention - _yes_ , they might brush and shine their own shoes, _but_ \- in the same way as knights needing a squire, you don’t see many men who iron their on own shirts, or cleans and presses their suits. Its laundromats - or actual butlers or maids, for the more privileged - who take care of their ‘armour’, and become the ‘squires of today’. - That is all a promise to future security; that he _will_ be able to afford the mortgage for that house on the suburbs with the garden and dog.

Just as there is also a promise of a certain level of self-respect, order, and general hygiene. A clean, cared-for suit indicates that the man in question is proud enough of his job to take care of his appearance, and take the time to try to look as impeccable as possible. - A man who does not care for his suit is _not_ a man you want...”

At the last remark, a image of Robert appeared, Stannis recalling the many times his brother’s dress-shirts or ties found a stain (or several) on them long before lunch.

“... Of course, there are all the other added bits - other _intricacies_. While the suit and shirt being too colourful most likely also means the guy is batting for the other team, you also definitely want to be the one to brighten the room, not him. Stated, sombre colours are preferable; an indication of seriousness rather than just vanity.”

A comparison of Renly’s rather bright colored shirts and ties with a sometimes just as bright coloured suit to Stannis’ own dark grey or dark blue suits with his usual white shirts sprang to mind.

“ _Still_ , a hint of colour wouldn't go amiss; usually in the tie. Ties - and possibly watches - are usually the first hint to their personality. In the opposite way to wanting the tie to have an appropriate level of colour, if the tie is ridiculous - in colour, shape, length, design, its clip… - well that’s a _BIG_ fat warning to _STAY CLEAR_.”

Stannis looked down at his tie. It seemed standard enough: a dark brown (what Renly would most likely call _‘bronze_ ’) with a lighter brown making a diamond pattern run the length of it. As for its actual length: its widest part hung roughly at the same height as the upper edge of his leather belt, with the tip extending slightly below more. The clip was between the third and fourth buttons of his shirt. _Thats where it should be, no_?

Unfortunately, oblivious to his thoughts, the young lady had continued, and Stannis missed the beginning of her next ‘ _intricacy_ ’.

“... which is why the belt wins between a belt and braces. For two piece suit versus three piece suits, I usually prefer three. It give a certain _nostalgia…_ a certain allusion to the olden time gentleman. Unfortunately, it can also be an indication of a man whose way too full of himself.”

This time an image of Petyr Baelish, in one of his custom made three-piece suits appeared.  ‘ _A_ _man whose way to full of himself_ ’ was putting it lightly. The only other man Stannis could think of who tended to wear three-piece suits more often than not was Tywin Lannister, who most certainly did not help the argument.

“Of course, the most important thing really is the undeniable truth that men just looked sexier when in a suit. And, even sexier, is imagining - or _knowing_ \- that _you_ will be the one to personally remove the jacket… shirt… unbuckle that leather belt and unzip his slacks and letting them fall... Just like a nameday present, it’s this crisp wrapping to the actual gift underneath, and it is _your_ choice to either _carefully_ take the time to slowly open it, or to rip and ruin all that crisp, order and pristine. - As said earlier: he can afford to have a shirt repaired… or just buying a new one, depending on the level of _damage_.”

Now, feeling slightly a little warmer, Stannis was - uncomfortably - reminded of the _several_ shirts Melisandre had ruined ( _destroyed_ ) beyond repair; especially the ones when they had not gone past his _desk_. _By the Seven_ , how had Stannis only realised, when she had started _burning_ his stuff (shirts and ties included), that the woman had been certifiably _insane_?

“There is also the slight appeal, if you meet up during the day, to leave the slightest mark of lipstick on the edge of his collar. In addition, to it being a reminder to the - hopefully, _lovely_ \- _interlude_ you two had, it is also a clear warning to all those bitches out there that he is already taken.”

A slight pause followed the statement – a moment of further consideration - before the woman added, “Of course, the next stage is getting to see his apartment; a second longer glimpse to who this suit-wearing man truly is.”

At the remark, Stannis thought of his own apartment, and couldn’t help but wonder what the young lady would think of its ‘ _minimalistic design’_ (as Renly called it).

In a tone undecided between amused and interested, the other woman perked up and asked the other question Stannis was silently asking himself, “What's the third?”

Without missing a beat, as if the answer obvious, the other replied, “ _Bedroom_ – its general appearance, furnishings... all that sort of stuff... and the bed - width, length, sturdiness comfort, sheets... To be then followed by his bathroom... Followed by his cabinet, drawers. Hopefully by then you know him enough and have spent enough time with him that the whole endeavour doesn’t make you look like a creepy-stalker or suspicious-clingy girlfriend.”

 

There was a brief lull before the other woman let out another strange noise (something Stannis could not truly describe as a snort or huff), most likely trying to express her derision or incredulity.

“ _Well.._. You know what I think San. _I_ think _all this_ … all these _‘intricacies_ ’ are just a way, a sort of justification-validation, for your tendency of being into older - sometimes _way older_ \- men, who also happen to usually wear suits.”

With an outraged gasp, the other quickly protested, “that is not _true_ … and totally _unfair_. For one: ‘He-who-will-not-be-named’ was only a year and a bit older than me--”

“-Yeah, but they have slowly grown in age with each one since: Harry, Tyrion, Sandor...”

In a voice Stannis could only describe as a ‘ _petulant mumble’_ , the other lady interjected, “Sandor didn’t wear suits.”

“Yeah… that was probably due to my influence of men in uniform, or your northern blood wanting a man filled with those ‘bulging biceps’ you mentioned earlier, or just someone that was the total opposite to ‘He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’--”

“- _Will_ not.”

“ _What_?”

“He’s ‘He-who- _will_ -not-be-named’...‘He-Who- _Must_ -Not-Be-Named’ is Voldemort. Putting that blonde-crapbag at the same level as one of the greatest but darkest and deadliest wizards seems to be giving _him_ too much ‘power’... or something.”

“ _Righhhtt_. Yeah, fair enough. But anyway, my point still stands: suit or not, all those following _Not-Voldemort_ have been _older_.”

After the sound of a huff, the ‘ _uniform-woman_ ' added, “You know… speaking of _‘will_ ’ and _older_ men, _Will_ wears suits. _Three-piece_ suits, with a belt, shined shoes, and usually with his nice Omega watch Grandpa Leyton gave him for his twenty-first. _And_ , he is also slightly younger than Sandor; - you know, in case, you are, in fact, interested in those slightly ‘ _younger_ ’ men again.”

A heavy sigh (one a little too similar to the one Davos used when he foolishly believed Stannis was being ‘ _unreasonable’_ ) and the other retorted,  “We just don't suit, Marg. Willas is lovely - more than _lovely._ Caring, considerate; an all-round gentleman. But we just didn’t click. You can’t force these things. Plus, no offence, but as nice as the idea of being your sister might be, I am more than a little scared to the idea of being in the same family as your grandmother.”

“Yeah, I know.... ( _sigh_ ). Besides, I actually think Will is secretly dating Arianne.”

“ _What_? Really? I bet your dad would _love_ that.”

“ _Hence_ the _secretly_ \--”

“- _Wait_. I thought Arianne was dating Arys?”

“Broke up about two months ago. Apparently, he realised she was more or less using him to piss off her dad and for this thing with the Lannisters.”

“Oh… wow… Aren’t you worried for Willas though?”

“ _Nan_. He’ll be _fine_. You have to remember that, although he looks all sweet and innocent, he’s made of tougher stuff - just like you. He won’t let anyone walk all over him. I mean, he _is_ a breeder, so he knows how to handle _spirited_ creatures.”

“Are you comparing Arianne to a horse?”

“No. I said _‘spirited creature_ ’.”

“Right… of course, apologies for my _‘foolish_ ’ remark... Poor Arys though. I know he really liked her.”

“Oh, he’ll be _fine_. At least once I go visit him.”

“ _Gods_ Marg, have pity on the poor man; he’s just had his heart betrayed and shattered.”

“Yeah, that’s why I waited these last two months. Besides, I’m only want to help heal his broken heart.”

 

 

=

**Three months later**

 

From the amount of bright colours, intricate furnishings and drapes, and _roses_ (and the accompanying _\- overpowering -_ flowery smells) spread throughout the room for the rehearsal dinner, Stannis’ apprehension level increased, as he wondered - _worried_ \- how much worse the actual ceremony would be, in terms of _everything_. (He was pretty sure there had been actual _flowers_ in the third _and_ fifth dish served this evening.)

 

At least both Cersei and Joffrey were noticeably - and most appreciatively - absent. (To be fair, as Robert and Cersei were divorced, and both Renly and Loras loathed both her and her loathsome first born it was understandable that they hadn’t come.)

Thankfully, Shireen seemed to be getting along with both of her other cousins. Stannis was actually surprised that Myrcella seemed to have… _grown attached_ to a certain young man to the point of actually bringing the young man - a _Martell_ \- to a _Tyrell-Baratheon_ wedding. Not that Stannis was going to ask her father about this blooming relationship. Robert was still grumbling  about his earlier realisation that there wouldn't be bridesmaids at a wedding between two men.

Another surprise was that Jaime Lannister _was_ present. A rather large - _robust_ \- woman that Stannis recognised as Brienne Tarth at his arm, no less; - someone who definitely did not meet the Lannister patriarch's prerequisites for the companion of his first born. (Then again, Tywin Lannister did not think much of his pride-and-joy being a ‘cop’ even though he wasn’t a mere police officer but a Superintendent of King’s Landing Special Division, referred to as ‘ _The Kingsguard_ ’.) Observing them through the evening, while Tarth seemed to be a close friend of Renly’s, a certain level respect and affinity seemed to exist between Loras Tyrell and Super Int. Lannister. Still, it was also possible that Lannister had been invited due to him being Tyrell’s superior; - in the same way that Chief Superintendent Selmy was also present (one of the few people Stannis actually spoke with).

 

The biggest surprise, however, happened not long after the ninth (or was it the tenth?) dish was served. A rather comely young lady came and actually _took_ Selmy’s empty seat next to Stannis.

Mind wondering how he should point out the obvious - the seat was _someone else's_ \- Stannis was slightly caught off guard when she actually turned to him.

“Hello... I… I’m Sansa Stark.”

Although the introduction supplied Stannis with a certain level of information - her name  as well as the fact that he had possibly felt a certain level of recognition because she was one of Ned Stark’s children that Stannis had obviously briefly met at one of the few of Robert’s parties he had actually attended - it did also lead to a rather large mystery: _why_? Why had this stunning red-head, at least a decade younger than him, come to sit next to _him_ , and possibly want to _talk_ with him.

For one, Stannis was more than certain that apart from the customary welcome at the arrival to Robert’s parties, Stannis had never spoken to Miss Stark (especially given the fact she would have been a teenage girl at the time; - a certain group people Stannis had nothing in common with or no understanding of).

Secondly, Stannis begrudgingly admitted that, although clearly older than the young lady, at least the eldest Tyrell boy was still a couple of years _younger_ than Stannis (and had a full head of hair)... Not to mention, both Olenna Tyrell and her ridiculous son seemed to constantly try to have the two interact through the evening.

 

Still, not wanting to appear rude to one of Renly’s wedding guest, Stannis decided it would best to reply.

“Stannis Baratheon.”

The largest smile he had ever seen - at least, directed at him - appearing on her face, Miss Stark replied, “Yes, I know. We actually met before, at Robert’s BBQs. Even then, you would always come in a suit and tie.”

Taken slightly aback at the remark, Stannis looked down, before being unable to stop himself from defending his attire, “Yes, I came straight from the office.”

Truthfully, whilst the other men might have decided to dress slightly more casually, in only a dress-shirt with no tie or jacket, or even the few _polo-shirts_ spread about (even one wearing a _sweater_ with a _t-shirt_ underneath), Stannis knew he would have come in a suit no matter what; this was a rehearsal dinner to a _wedding_ , not some Star Trek convention.

“Oh, I didn't mean it as a criticism. I was actually trying to convey my approval… The whole ensemble works.”

 

Apart from the confusing start, (once they had gone past the subject of his wardrobe choice) Stannis found that Miss Stark was actually a rather interesting young lady, and their conversation flowed easily. Still, a certain - _annoying_ \- nagging feeling, one Stannis was unable to switch off, persisted as they continued to talk.

Of course, their discussion was further ruined when the Tyrell girl - what was her name again? Melinda? - decided to join them.

“ _Stannis_ … how wonderful to see you again.”

Before Stannis had the chance to point out that it would make sense that he be here, since it was for his _brother’s_ wedding (or point out that she had rudely interrupted Miss Stark), Miss Tyrell continued, “I must say that is a very _nice_ suit you are wearing. Savile Row is it?... Though, I hope you don’t mind me saying, you should maybe go for a slightly lighter tie next time, to add more colour.”

The strange comment ending with a strange wink to the other young lady, as well as the brazen way Miss Tyrell’s scanned the whole of his person, Stannis had the sudden strange feeling that the young lady was _flirting_ with him. Which surely could not be correct: had she not come with one of Loras’ colleagues, Sergeant Oakheart, currently speaking with another one of the _‘Kinguard’_ Division, Sergeant Swann?

Before Stannis could think of an appropriate response (or possibly make clear to Miss Tyrell that he was definitely not interested, no matter the current state of her relationship with Serg Oakheart), Miss Stark interjected, “Nonsense. I wouldn't listen to Margaery, Stannis. The dark blue suits you; it brings out the colour of your eyes.”

Stannis felt himself blink. _‘Brings out the colour of your eyes_ ’ _?_

Brain reeling he nearly missed Miss Stark’s next comment, this time directed at her friend, “Didn’t Loras need you to check on the flower arrangements, Marg?”

Stannis’ mind (and body) froze. _Marg_.

To then be jerked back to a strange discussion he had been privy to several months ago. One about…

 _Suits_.

_Men in suits._

_Men in suits versus men in uniforms._

_Suits. Ties. Shirts. Shinny Shoes. Belts. Slacks._

_Suits to be unwrapped like nameday presents._

_Older men wearing suits_.

 

“ _Stannis…_ ”

 

Stannis was jerked back out of the trance by a voice - _that_ voice - calling to him.

“ _Stannis_.”

Calling to him again.

“Are you alright?”

His eyes focused, to find Miss Stark looking at him with concern.

“I’m sorry for Margaery. She can be rather… _brash_.”

Mind still slightly blank, it took a few moments for the words to sink in, before Stannis slowly realised that Miss Margaery - ‘ _Marg’_ \- Tyrell was no longer with them. She had retreated, currently moving back to a group of other guests. To stand to _Arys_ Oakheart. Her date.

 

Though Oakheart was not currently in uniform, (and even if Stannis hadn't recognised the two voices or the nickname ‘ _Marg’_ ) it wasn’t stretch for Stannis to figure out _which_ of the two young ladies had been the supporter of _uniform-wearing_ men, and who had a preference for men in _suits_...

Which was standing next to a _sergeant_ of the Metropolitan _police_....

And which was _sitting_ next to a man in a _suit_ …

Sitting next to _him_. Stannis. Whose _sombre_ , _three_ -piece ensemble ‘ _worked_ ’. Whose dark blue tie _‘brought out the colour of his eyes_ ’.

 

Perhaps Renly’s wedding (even one featuring an excessive amount of Tyrells and roses) wouldn't be so bad after all.

 

 

=

**A week later**

 

A frown forming on his face due to the interruption, Stannis looked up from the spreadsheet he was currently reviewing.

“ _Pardon_ , what did you say Davos?”

Pointing to his own collar, the older man repeated his previous remark, as he continued to look confusingly at Stannis’ _neck_.

“You have some kind of small red... _stain_ on your collar.”

The words took a moment to register. From there, Stannis felt a mix of irritation, for having a _stain_ on his shirt, as well as a certain level of... _smugness_ , realising the stain was most likely a very similar colour to Miss Stark’s chosen lipstick shade.

Throat slightly tighter, Stannis quickly supplied, “ _Ah_ , probably from a small nick from when I shaved this morning.”

It was Davos’ turn to frown. “I thought you used an electric shaver?”

“ _Urgh_ … I recently decided to try out razors with blade. Its supposed to shave better… skin smoother.”

Although he did not respond, Davos continued to look at him skeptically, as if Stannis had just asked him to solve a quantum mechanics equation.

 

Wanting to move on from the small deep-raspberry coloured mark on the collar of his otherwise pristine shirt, Stannis returned to his spreadsheet.

_Actually._

_Incidentally_ , Stannis was reminded of… _something else_. He reached for his phone and pressed _‘ **2**_ ’ on the switch board. His efficient PA, Rolland Storm’s, voice came on the other end. “ _Sir?”_

“Yes, Storm. Could you call my laundrette and check when the shirt I left with them will finished being repaired?”

“ _Will get right on it._ ”

 

 

 


End file.
